


Magnus' Moving Castle

by shyberius



Category: Howl's Moving Castle - All Media Types, The Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare
Genre: Howl's Moving Castle, Howl's Moving Castle AU, M/M, Magic, Malec, Shadowhunters - Freeform, Slow Burn, Studio Ghibli, alec is sophie, jace is calcifer, magnus is howl
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-25
Updated: 2020-05-25
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:29:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23837605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shyberius/pseuds/shyberius
Summary: Alec missed a breath as his feet left the ground. He could feel the world rush away from him, and an arm around his waist. Magnus. Stealer of hearts, magical prodigy, and, finally, his.“There you are,” said a smooth voice in his ear. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere.”(A Howl's Moving Castle/Shadowhunters crossover)
Relationships: Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood
Comments: 7
Kudos: 28





	1. Hats and Hearts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Interesting things did seem to happen, but always to somebody else.” - Diana Wynne Jones, Howl's Moving Castle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to by Howl's Moving Castle AU in which:
> 
> Magnus is Wizard Howl, and  
> Alec is Sophie.
> 
> Enjoy the madness that will ensue.

Alec had grown up with the same stories as the rest of them: tales of the land beyond home, the glittering palaces, and the vast, endless Waste. Stories meant to install fear into them, to train them never to go out walking on their own. But if you do ever find yourself out there, his mother had said to him, you must beware of the biggest danger of all. Never go into the Moving Castle. For that is the home of Wizard Magnus.

“Who’s he?” The children had asked in varying stages of sleepiness.

Mother would stroke Alec’s hair absently, and look into the crackling fire. “The only thing you need to know about Wizard Magnus is that he steals hearts.”

Little Max would shiver in fear. Isabelle would scoff and say something like, “Well, see if I push him over _first_.” And Alec, ever the practical one, would ask, “But how would he do that? It doesn’t make sense.”

Their mother would simply laugh quietly and tuck them into bed without another word. Alec wished he could forget, but the image of Wizard Magnus, of what he _could_ look like, followed him into his adolescence. Did he look like a storybook wizard, with a cloak and a white beard? Or perhaps he was a soldier, bristling with weapons and danger. Wizard Magnus lived in Alec’s imagination, and it was safe to say that he wasn’t paying rent.

Alec threaded the last pearl into the hat he was making, leaning his head on his hand and looking out of the window. The sun was shining on the busy street below, and life carried on without him. He didn’t mind; he liked it up here, secluded in his workshop, working for his dad. It was what he’d always done, and he couldn’t imagine it differently.

He passed the time by talking to the hats he made. It sounded crazy, but Alec enjoyed it. Sometimes, the hats did things of their own accord. Alec always put it down to his imagination.

“Don’t you want to do something else?” Isabelle had asked him one day. She’d come in from one of her parties, covered with glitter and seeming to glow with her own light.

“Like what?” Alec had said.

“I don’t know. Something _more_.”

But Alec didn’t want _more_. He wanted this: to keep his family safe, and happy. And by carrying on the family business as the eldest, he could do just that. It was simple, really. Life was simple.

Life was simple until it wasn’t. Alec was usually left to clean up the shop after it closed. One evening, he was more tired than usual, and as dusk crept over the town, he’d forgotten to lock the shop door. He heard her come in before he saw her.

She cleared her throat. It sounded like nails scratching metal. “I would like a hat, please.”

Alec jumped up from behind the counter. “Oh! Hello. We’re actually closed. My apologies.” He wasn’t good at customer service. Just hats. He was good at hats. Hats didn’t answer back.

She took a step closer. The floorboards creaked. Now Alec was able to get a proper look at her, and started in confusion. Her very form seemed to be constantly shifting, as if he was looking at her through water. She looked like nothing and everything at once.

He’d never encountered it before, but for reasons he couldn’t explain, he just knew. _Magic_.

Her voice had a sinister note when she repeated, “I would like a hat, please.”

Alec’s stomach turned. Whatever it was about her - about this - he didn’t like it. He never liked the inexplicable. “I’m sorry, ma’am, but would it kill you to wait till morning?“

The mysterious lady cleared her throat again impatiently. “Silly boy. I don’t really want one of your stupid hats. I came for you.”

At that moment, a very curious sensation came over him. If he could have described it, he would have said something along the lines of _kinda cold and not very nice_. And while he was still trying to find words for how he felt, the lady promptly left the shop.

The door swung on its hinges. Alec suddenly felt normal again. _Well, that was weird._

He hurried over to the door, locking it properly this time. Just as he was walking away, he caught his reflection in the shop window, and stopped. He blinked, and looked again. Then he rubbed his eyes, and looked one more time, refusing to believe what he saw staring back at him.

The reflection in the window wasn’t Alec, but an old man. A stooped, wrinkled old man, wearing Alec’s clothes and looking at him with Alec’s blue eyes.

What had the mysterious lady _done_ to him?

He ran up the stairs to his bedroom, or at least he tried, before realising that his joints were painful and his heart strained against his chest. Old men didn’t run; they hobbled.

So Alec hobbled up the stairs, his mind reeling. At least his mind was working normally, even if his legs weren’t. He was still the same Alec he’d ever been, only his body had seemed to speed up about 60 years.

Once in his room, Alec sat down on his bed and tried to think this through as calmly and as rationally as he could. He wished he could talk to Izzy, but she couldn’t see him like this. Alec wasn’t vain, but there was a line, and this crossed it.

 _Magic_. Alec only knew two things: that this woman had put a curse on him, and that he had to find a way to reverse it. And that wherever that solution was, it certainly wasn’t in this town.

Alec had to find him. He’d never been so sure of anything in his life.

He had to find Wizard Magnus.

***

The hills were vast and endless. Far below, the only town Alec knew lay nestled in a valley, glittering like a jewel in the dawn. The sun hadn’t yet risen, but the merchants and businessmen were already waking, placing their candles in windows and opening their doors. Alec could see it all - but why did it look so small all of a sudden? Was that really his whole life, sitting there below him as if it could be plucked out of the air?

His back was hurting already. The terrain was unforgiving: loose rocks threatened to trip him up, shrubs and roots lay hidden in the shadows, and the ground seemed to crawl with small, invisible creatures. But the promising glow of the sun just about to rise was what kept him going.

Since he’d already made up his mind, Alec found that it would have been useless to delay for another second. That’s why, before daybreak, he’d packed up what food he could find, put on his warmest travelling gear (who knew that old people got cold so easily?), and slipped away silently. The only way he was going to find what he wanted was by going to the hills. And here he was.

The sun peeked out from the top of the hills, giving him the extra warmth he needed. Before long, he’d worked up a rhythm, and everyone knew that once Alec had started something, he’d do whatever it took to finish it. His stubbornness was his strength, even when his knees were aching so badly that if he stopped, he’d probably keel over.

The curse had made his hearing worse, so he didn’t hear it until it was up close. It was a _tap, tap, tap_ of something wooden on the stones. He turned around to see that he wasn’t alone.

“Have you been following me?” He asked the scarecrow that had taken its place beside him.

It was generous to call it a scarecrow, for all it really was was a stick with a rag tied to it and a turnip on the top. Also, the turnip had a lopsided smiley face cut into it.

At Alec’s question, the scarecrow hopped around excitedly, then began hopping forward again. It turned back, as if beckoning him to follow it.

“I don’t know whether I should trust you,” said Alec wearily.

In answer, the scarecrow stayed in one spot, still hopping. Alec hobbled to the spot where it was, and to his surprise realised that the scarecrow was trying to show him something. Next to the spot where it had stopped, there lay a stick on the ground. Alec picked it up, and tested it. It was the perfect walking stick.

He looked up at the scarecrow. “You’re not all bad, then.” He must be going mad if he was really making friends with a scarecrow. “I shall call you Turniphead, because your head is a turnip.”

In response, the newly christened Turniphead hopped on, and Alec followed.

The day wore on, and all the hills seemed to look the same. Alec thought that soon he’d need to sit down and rest, but his thoughts were interrupted when he spotted something strange on the horizon.

A castle. With legs. And it was moving towards them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you guys think! I can tell we're going to have a lot of fun with this one. I'll try to update weekly-ish.


	2. Perks of Being Old

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You must admit I have the right to live in a pigsty if I want." - Diana Wynne Jones, Howl's Moving Castle

“That’s Wizard Magnus’ Moving Castle,” said Alec dumbly. This was the Castle he’d heard about his whole life but never seen up close, and now it was... _here_. He hadn’t expected to find what he was looking for so quickly. He guessed it was just good luck.

Or perhaps Magnus was looking for him as well. But Alec wouldn’t consider that possibility until much later. Besides, Alec didn’t have time for contemplation, because the Castle was approaching with surprising swiftness for what was, well, a giant building with legs.

Alec looked to the scarecrow. “What do we do?”

The scarecrow, being a scarecrow, said nothing. Instead, as if to say _my job is done here_ , it hopped away over the hills. Alec had the feeling that wasn’t the last he’d see of Turniphead.

Alec sighed, and looked up at the Castle - for it was above him now, a huge, looming shadow that should have scared him way more than it actually did. “Let me in!” He yelled up at it. “You wouldn’t deny an old man a place to rest, would you?”

There weren’t many perks to being old, but one of them was emotionally manipulating people - or sentient castles - into giving you a place to say. In Alec’s defence, he has to take everything he could get.

To his relief, it worked. The Castle settled a few feet away from him with a thud and a metallic clang, and a door in its side opened invitingly. Without fear, Alec walked in. (That was another perk of being old: you weren’t scared of anything anymore. What was the point? You were going to die anyway.)

He’d never really contemplated what the inside of the Castle would look like, but he’d certainly never imagined this. It was filthy; cobwebs covered the timbered ceiling, and every piece of furniture seemed to come with a thick layer of dust. Not only that, but the clutter was almost unbearable to look at. Every available surface was populated with a mess that included leaking bottles of potion, dirty dishes and various magical memorabilia.

And it seemed to be deserted. The only flicker of life was in the grate at the centre of the room, where a small fire glowed invitingly. It was only then that Alec realised just how cold he was, and how bone-tired. Suddenly all thoughts of Wizard Magnus paled in comparison with the overwhelming desire to warm his hands by the fire.

He hobbled over to the hearth and sat down there, right in front of the fire. Stretching his hands out and feeling the warmth sink into his skin, he let his eyes close and his head droop for a moment.

But before he’d had the chance to fall asleep, a sharp voice pulled him back. “Magnus doesn’t usually have visitors.”

Alec’s eyes snapped open and he nearly jumped out of his skin. He looked around the still empty room. “Who’s there?”

The voice was coming from the grate. “Look in front of you, dummy.”

He looked into the fire. Or rather, the face in the fire. Two eyes like saucers and a thin mouth. “Huh?”

“Nice to meet you too,” retorted the fire.

“You’re...a fire?” Said Alec, awestruck.

“A fire _demon_ , if you will,” said the fire. “A very scary and powerful one, too.”

Alec stared blankly.

“What?” said the fire demon. “I _am_.” Though all it looked like was a small fire with a face. You had to take him as his word.

Once Alec had discerned that, no, he wasn’t dreaming, he said, “I’ve never heard of fire demons before.”

“Well, of course you haven’t,” quipped the fire demon, “and I bet you haven’t been into a wizard’s castle before. Which brings me to my question: what are you doing here?”

“I’m looking for Wizard Magnus,” answered Alec. “He does live here, doesn’t he?”

“May I ask why? It’s my job to protect this castle, you know. For all I know, you could be a bandit or a murderer.”

“Of course,” said Alec sarcastically, “I’m actually a bandit.” He gestured to his elderly self. “How perceptive of you.”

If it were possible for a fire to scowl, then that’s exactly what the fire did. “Whatever. Who are you anyway?”

“Alec Lightwood. And you are…?”

“Jace.”

“That’s a funny name for a fire demon.”

“I don’t know what you were expecting.”

***

The first thing Magnus did when he came home was fix himself a drink.

The castle was a mess - dirty goblets strewn all over the tabletop, bottle upon bottle jostling for space on the shelves - but Magnus could feel his way around the place with his eyes closed. In fact, when he stretched out a hand and whispered something under his breath, the right bottle came to him.

He took a swig straight from it, and closed his eyes as the liquid razed his throat. That was better. “Clary!” He yelled into the empty space.

A muffled voice sounded from upstairs. “What!”

“Run me a bath. I’ve had a…” he sighed for extra dramatic flair, “ _trying_ day.”

“Surely you’re not too tired to look up the difference between _housekeeper_ and _wizard’s apprentice_ ,” Clary replied from wherever she was hiding. But despite the attitude, Magnus promptly heard the rushing of tap water, and noted the tendrils of steam that had begun to curl around the corner.

Magnus put his drink down and ran a hand through his already irredeemably messy hair. One of these days, he thought, he’d take a holiday. No more dubious magical quests; no more underwhelming sword fights; no more dark and empty castles. He’d find a place to stay permanently. Somewhere to call home, with a meadow full of flowers and a sky that looked like the sea.

But enough of that wishful thinking. He really was tired, and, now that he came to think of it, cold. He wandered over to the hearth and made a move to sit down in front of the fire. And he would have done just that, except someone had beaten him to it.

“Jace,” he hissed. “What’s that?”

A pair of eyes appeared in the grate. “You mean _who_.”

“You haven’t answered my question. What did I tell you about letting strangers into the Castle?” The last time Jace had let in a stranger, Magnus’ Seven League Boots had almost been stolen. Sometimes Magnus wondered whether Jace was more trouble than he was worth.

As if he’d read his mind, Jace retorted, “Come on. You need me.”

Magnus did indeed need him. And he resented it with every fibre of his extremely magical being.

“Your bath’s ready!” Came Clary’s voice from the top of the stairs.

Magnus trudged upstairs for his bath (his favourite place, the bath. One of the only places where he could truly think), forgetting entirely that Jace hadn’t even answered his question. Who, exactly, was the old man sleeping in front of the fire?

He’d find out soon enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed! I had so much fun writing Jace as the fire demon, haha. Let me know your thoughts!


	3. The New Housekeeper

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I hope your bacon burns." - Diana Wynne Jones, Howl's Moving Castle

Alec woke up to the sunlight streaming in through a crack in the roof. The fire had fizzled down to a few smouldering embers, and the Castle was silent. He sat up blearily, and rubbed his eyes. His whole body ached, and memories of yesterday came flooding back to him: his hometown growing smaller in the distance, a friendly scarecrow, and a talking fire.

Alec barely had the time to contemplate whether he’d been dreaming before he heard footsteps on the stairs. He lay back down and pretended that he was still asleep, keeping one eye open.

A red-haired girl slid down the banister with as much dignity as a landslide. She landed in a heap on the floor, then brushed herself off and unhooked a cloak from the wall. It was beautiful, shimmering green with silver embroidered stars, and when she put it on, she looked like some kind of witch princess. If witch princesses existed. Her freckled, pointed face disappeared under the hood.

Alec watched with fascination as she took up a scroll from the kitchen table and walked up to the door. Beside the door, there was a round panel, sectioned off into four colours: blue, green, red and black. The girl turned the panel so that the arrow pointed to blue, and opened the door.

Alec blinked. On the other side of the door wasn’t the craggy hills he’d come from, but a completely different scene entirely. They were in a bustling merchant town, on a street lined with wealthy houses and brimming with people in coat tails and top hats. It was as if the door had opened onto another world. Alec experienced the same feeling he’d had when that mysterious lady had walked into the hat shop: the shifting, uneasy feeling that he was witnessing magic. His heart raced.

A prosperous-looking man came to the door to meet the girl. “Good day,” he tipped his hat to her. “I’m enquiring after Mr. Magnus Bane.”

“Mr. Magnus can’t come to the door right now,” said the girl sweetly. “He’s hungover, I’m afraid.”

The man made a face like he’d just tasted sour milk. “Is that so?”

“Unfortunately so. He does, however, have a message for you.” The girl handed him the scroll she’d been hiding up her cloak sleeve.

The man took it without a word of thanks. “Very well. You tell him that if he keeps pulling stunts like this, it will than his reputation that’s on the line.”

“I shall,” she said. “Good day, sir.” Then she shut the door, muttered “ghastly man”, and shrugged the cloak off. Alec listened to her stomping back upstairs, and waited for silence until he sat back up, his mind reeling with questions.

“She’s a strange one, alright,” came a grating voice from the hearth. It was Jace, and he’d woken up from the ashes to return to his previous fiery state.

“Who is she?”

“She’s Clary, Magnus’ apprentice,” he replied. “Rude and bad-tempered, if you ask me. Which no one does.”

Alec was about to say that Clary wasn’t the only bad-tempered one, when his stomach growled. “Oh, I’m hungry.”

“Boo hoo, that must be so hard for you. All I eat is logs - how would you like it, munching on rotten wood all day?”

Alec tuned out Jace’s woeful ramblings as an idea formed in his mind. He stood up with a groan, and set off around the kitchen to look for something to eat. Most of what he found in cupboards and drawers was either mouldy or explosive, and he was beginning to lose any hope of a proper meal until he opened the fridge door.

“Aha!” He brandished a handful of eggs and a few rashers of bacon. “I knew there had to be something.” He spotted a clean-ish frying pan and took it down from the shelf with a clatter, cracking the eggs into it and hobbling towards the fire.

“Oh, no.” Jace turned blue at the sight of the frying pan. “No, no, nonono - “

“What’s wrong?” Alec placed the bacon beside the eggs with a satisfied look on his face. “Has no one ever cooked in here before?”

“Of course not!” Jace spluttered. “What do you take me for: a domestic fire? I’m a _very powerful fire demon_ and I will _not_ allow you to - agh!”

Whatever Jace had been about to say was cut off by Alec, who thrust the frying pan onto the fire with zero regrets.

“You’ll pay for this!” Came Jace’s furious but muffled voice from under the pan. “I’m being severely mistreated. Carelessly used. I hope all your bacon burns.”

Alec suppressed a smile. The bacon smelled lovely, and eventually Jace’s protests died down, and he just crackled as the food cooked. “Are you sulking?”

“Fire demons don’t sulk,” said Jace disdainfully.

Alec had been so preoccupied with making sure his bacon didn’t burn, that he didn’t notice a tall figure come down the stairs behind him.

“Incredible. I’ve never seen Jace cook anything before.”

Alec looked up and met the eyes of Wizard Magnus. Finally, after years of imagining, he was _here_.

He was...laughing.

Magnus gazed into the fire with an expression of wonder mixed with mirth. “How on earth did you persuade Jace to cook breakfast?”

“He bullied me,” said Jace.

“I asked him nicely,” said Alec. Then, after some thought, he admitted, “It was a bit of both, really.”

Magnus turned his gaze back to Alec - with a start, Alec noticed that his eyes were orange and slit-pupiled, like a cat’s. It wasn’t a bad look on him. “And who are you, exactly?”

In a second of quick-witted discernment, Alec remembered the exchange he’d heard on the stair last night, when he’d been pretending to be asleep. _Surely you’re not too tired to look up the difference between housekeeper and wizard’s apprentice._ He spoke without properly thinking it over. “I’m your new housekeeper.”

Magnus raised his eyebrows almost imperceptibly. “How exciting,” he said levelly.

“The place needs a clean,” Alec continued, not sure where he’d got this newfound confidence from. Was he really telling the most infamous Wizard of the land that he could use some home improvement? “And someone needs to keep this fire in check.”

(“Fire _demon_ ,” said Jace feebly.)

Magnus’s eyes sparked. “Interesting. Well, as you were, old man.”

Alec returned his attention to the bacon and eggs, feeling as if he’d won some kind of face-off. There was an unspoken agreement, now: he could stay. Though he didn’t fancy being called _old man_. I guessed he’d have to put up with it for the time being.

They passed the time it took for the breakfast to fully cook in silence, Alec occasionally feeding Jace burnt pieces of bacon (Jace loved burnt pieces of bacon, he discovered), and Magnus regarding Alec as if he were a puzzle he had yet to solve. Finally, Magnus said, “I suppose Jace wouldn’t just let anyone into the Castle. I’ve secured it with protective wards, but it seems you’re...not dangerous.”

“Do I look dangerous?” Alec gestured to himself. He was still getting used to being old; it ached a lot more than he’d thought it would. The only thing he was a danger to was those cobwebs when he got hold of a duster.

“Not really,” Magnus conceded. Then, changing topics, he mused, “Perhaps we should call you a Castlekeeper. After all, this is a castle, and not a house.”

“Woah there, Mr. Bane.” Clary came sliding down the banister, her eyes shining with delight. “Save those big thoughts until the afternoon. The morning has plenty of confusion in it already.” She caught sight of the sizzling bacon and eggs, and gasped. “Is that a _cooked breakfast?_ ”

“Goodness me,” Magnus rolled his eyes to the ceiling. “You’re both making me look like a terrible wizard. I give you plenty of food, don’t I? And as for the...untidiness of the Castle, it’s _decorative clutter_. Helps me think great thoughts.”

“Whatever,” said Clary. “When’s the food ready?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Truly I tell you: nothing can get between Clary and her cooked breakfast.


	4. Impossible

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Yes, you are nosy. You're a dreadfully nosy, horribly bossy, appallingly clean old woman. Control yourself. You're victimizing us all." - Diana Wynne Jones, Howl's Moving Castle

Once breakfast was finished, there was much work to be done. Alec was keen to make a start on cleaning the Castle; Clary had countless errands to run for Magnus, one of which entailed dropping off a slightly explosive potion to an enemy; and Magnus…

“What exactly _do_ you do?” Asked Alec, curiosity getting the better of him. “There’s not exactly a job description for ‘wizard’ that I know of.”

Magnus’ back was to him as he busied himself with throwing logs into the fire. “The art is in what I _don’t_ do. I’m quite good at spreading rumours about myself: _Magnus is an incompetent wizard. Magnus is horrible. Magnus steals hearts._ That way, no one asks me to do their dirty work.”

Alec wanted to ask a thousand questions, such as whether he really stole hearts. Instead, he said, “That sounds like laziness.”

“Works for me,” said Magnus cheerfully. He spread his hands wide, and a coat appeared out of nowhere to rest on his shoulders. It was mesmerizingly colorful, with golden lining and a pattern of diamonds.

“Where are you going?”

Magnus headed to the door, and turned the arrow to green. Another day, another world. With one last look over his shoulder, he said, “To steal hearts. I never said the rumours weren’t true.” And with what Alec could have sworn was a wink, he disappeared through the door, his coat billowing behind him.

“Is he always like that?” Alec said to no one in particular.

“If by _like that_ you mean _absolutely impossible_ , then yes,” said Clary, who was brewing herself a second cup of coffee. She downed it in one gulp, then scarpered up the stairs with a distant, “thanks for the breakfast!”

Alec sat down in front of the fire and sighed. Now that Magnus and Clary were out of the way, he practically had the Castle to himself. Where to start?

He must have been speculating out loud, because Jace muttered, “Don’t even think about cleaning the fireplace. You’ll regret it.”

Alec smiled. “Oh, I’ll wait.”

Jace scowled.

Alec ignored him and stood up, his knees creaking as he did so. He kept forgetting that he had the body of an eighty-year-old. But nothing, not even creaky knees, was going to stop him from cleaning this castle from top to bottom. Alec Lightwood always finished what he started.

After raiding every cupboard in the kitchen, he’d managed to assemble an impressive collection of weapons: a broomstick, a mop, two feather dusters, and a vacuum cleaner. He was pretty sure the mop was sentient, but that wouldn’t stop him. Most things in this castle were probably sentient to some extent.

Since Jace clearly wasn’t going to cooperate - he was spitting sparks onto the hearth - Alec decided to start upstairs, dusting as he went on his way. The cobwebs were as thick as curtains in some places, and he had to tie a rag around his face to keep the spiders away. He ignored his aching muscles, convinced that nothing was going to stop him from doing his work.

Unlike the expanse of downstairs, the upstairs landing was dark and cramped. There were three doors in front of him, and he chose the one straight ahead. At first, the handle wouldn’t budge, but one rap with the handle of his broomstick took care of that. He headed inside without hesitation.

So _this_ was what a great wizard’s room looked like. Alec took a step back to get a proper view of it all. It was what could only be described as an assault on the senses: a kaleidoscope of clashing colours, sparkle, and magic. When Alec tried to pick out a specific object, his head began to hurt and he gave up.

It was inexplicable. But it wasn’t immune to Alec’s feather duster.

He attacked it with as much enthusiasm as his old legs would allow, dusting off beautiful objects (some of which talked back to him) and brushing away stray cobwebs. By the time he was done, the room looked even shinier than it had before.

Next was the bathroom. Alec gasped as the smell hit him in a wave. It wasn’t a _bad_ smell, exactly; it was just a lot. It was like every perfume that had ever been created was mingling in the air. Legions of bottles were littered on every available surface, some oozing their contents onto the floor. He could just imagine Magnus in here, preening over himself in the mirror, throwing around magic like it was nothing.

When Alec was finished, he could see his reflection in the floorboards. Another mirror for Magnus to star at himself through.

He turned to open the door to Clary’s room, but Clary had got there first, blocking his path with a pleading expression. “Please, not my room. I’ve done nothing wrong.”

“I’m doing you a favour.”

“But I don’t want a favour! I like the spiders!”

Alec sighed. He didn’t have the energy to argue. Instead, he tuned out Clary’s protests and headed downstairs for his final project.

“Oh no, you don’t,” said Jace in a warning voice.

“Calm down,” said Alec, brandishing his mop. “I’m only cleaning the floors.”

“Hmm. I don’t trust you.”

“You’re the one who let me into the castle.”

Jace sighed. A plume of black smoke made its way up to the ceiling. “Fair enough. Why are you here, anyway?”

“Who else is going to clean this place?”

“Okay, okay. But why are you really here?”

Alec stopped in his tracks. He leaned the mop against the wall, and turned to the fire. “If you really want to know, then you can’t tell Magnus. Not yet.”

“Sure. I can keep a secret.”

Alec wasn’t sure why he was confiding in a fire demon, but his only alternative was the possibly sentient mop. “I’m under a curse.”

“A curse!” Exclaimed Jace. “Cool.”

“ _Not cool_ ,” corrected Alec. “Very not cool. I was working in my shop, and this woman...well, I couldn’t describe her, really. But she put a curse on me, and that’s why I’m old. I came here looking for a wizard powerful enough to reverse it.”

There was a long silence as Jace contemplated this, and Alec took up the mop again to get at those pesky corners. “This woman. What did you say she looked like?”

“Well, it’s hard to say.” Alec closed his eyes, and the memories of that night came rushing back to him. It felt like so long ago. He felt a sudden, sharp longing for home. For Isabelle’s hard-earned smile, and his mother’s stories. “I just remember thinking that she was magic. I can’t explain why.”

Jace’s voice darkened. “I see. The Wicked Witch of the Waste.”

“The who?”

“She’s what happens when very powerful magicians go bad,” explained Jace. “She’s the worst of all of them. Magnus tried to stop her, until…” He trailed off.

“Until what?”

“That’s not your secret to keep, old man.”

Alec let out a frustrated breath. “Why does everyone keep calling me old man?”

Jace laughed, but it was a half-hearted laugh. Alec returned to his cleaning, his thoughts keeping him occupied all the while. Then, so quietly that Alec had to strain his ears, Jace said, “How about I make you a deal?”

Alec stopped what he was doing. “I’m listening.”

“I can help you, but I want a favour in return,” said Jace. “I want you to break the contract between me and Magnus.”

Alec was waiting for him to say more, but there didn’t seem to be anything. Finally, he said, “Well? I can’t break a contract I know nothing about.”

“I can’t _tell_ you.”

“You’re impossible.” Everyone in this stupid castle was impossible. “Is it that you _can’t_ tell me, or _won’t_?”

“Can’t. Honestly,” and he _did_ look honest - Alec had to credit him for that, at least. “It’s the magical nature of the contract.”

Magic was really starting to get on Alec’s nerves. “So you’re telling me that I have to figure it out by myself?”

Jace was quick to cut to the chase. “So is it a deal?”

Alec had no idea. “I’ll think about it. But, in the meantime, your fireplace could do with a clean.”

“Don’t you _dare_ \- “

But Alec had already done it. He’d pulled out the log that Jace was sitting on leaving the poor fire demon scrambling to stay upright. “Don’t be dramatic - it’ll do you good in the long run.”  
Jace let out a pitiful cry. “You don’t understand. I’ll be put out.”

“How sad,” said Alec with as much sarcasm as he could summon. With one hand, he held the log as arm’s length, and with the other he efficiently scrubbed the walls of the fireplace. “It’s looking better already.”

Jace’s cries were drowned out by the slamming of the door. Alec looked over his shoulder to see Magnus striding towards him like a very brightly-coloured storm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed! Let me know what you think in the comments.


End file.
